


the random and the ridiculous

by katertots, Merideath



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Banter, Embarrassment, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Humor, Mild Language, Seduction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-20 07:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katertots/pseuds/katertots, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merideath/pseuds/Merideath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one shots co-written by Meri and Katy.  </p><p>Chapter 1: Hurricane (Darcy & Steve, Natasha)</p><p>“Sean Connery or Paul Newman?” Steve hears Natasha ask when he walks into the communal kitchen for a midnight snack.</p><p>Chapter 2: Key (Darcy/Steve, Bucky)</p><p>"Finish that sentence and I'll tell Stark it was you that hacked into his system and made JARVIS speak with a cockney accent."</p><p>Chapter 3: Truth (Darcy & Steve)</p><p>“Are you that happy about a box of Girl Scout cookies?”</p><p>Chapter 4: French Fries (Darcy/Steve)</p><p>"Har dee har, Rogers. I'm not falling for your trolling like some baby agent."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hurricane (Darcy & Natasha, Darcy & Steve)

“Sean Connery or Paul Newman?” Steve hears Natasha ask when he walks into the communal kitchen for a midnight snack. He glances over and sees Darcy sprawled over one couch, phone in front of her face, and Natasha relaxed on the other. Natasha spots him and nods in greeting.

“Goddammit, Candy Crush! Are you kidding me? I was so fucking close to clearing that level!” Darcy huffs, dropping her phone to her chest. “Sorry, I need clarification,” she tells Natasha. “Paul Newman circa Cool Hand Luke or shilling salad dressing? And are we talking Sean Connery as James Bond or King Arthur here?”

“Does it matter?” Natasha clips.

“You’re asking which one I’d let into my lady business, so yeah, it matters,” Darcy deadpans. 

Steve’s heard them playing this game before and it’s always the same—Darcy asking for clarification and Natasha having to rein in her annoyance since she considers Darcy a close friend. His lips twitch in amusement as he pulls open the refrigerator to rummage for leftovers. 

“Fine. James Bond and Cool Hand Luke.” 

“Gonna go with Paul Newman on this one,” Darcy answers, picking up her phone again.

"Really?” Natasha asks, surprise evident in her voice.

“Stupid jelly!” Darcy spits down at the screen. “Yes, really. His eyes are so blue and dreamy.”

He chuckles to himself and pulls out a carton of Chinese food. “Alright, we’ve exhausted celebrities. I want to know which one of The Avengers you'd bang,” Natasha asks, and Steve is suddenly very interested in her answer. He swears if she answers Clint he might break the door. 

“Aside from you?” Darcy retorts. “You know—if I had a death wish and liked eating pussy?”

Natasha’s lips twitch into a crooked smile, eyes flicking over to Steve. “Aside from me, yes.” 

"Pfft! No contest. I'd bang Steve," Darcy says, not even looking up from her game. He freezes with a fork halfway to his mouth. The noodles slide off the utensil and fall to the floor.

"Steve, huh?"

"Mhmm. Like a screen door in a hurricane," Darcy says flicking her thumb across her phone screen and pumping her fist in the air when she cleared the level.

"Excellent. Hi ya, Cap! Stealing all the leftovers again?" Natasha smiles almost imperceptibly and rolls to her feet in one sinuous movement.

"You sneaky bitch!" Darcy hisses, eyes going wide as she scrambles up to a sitting position. She glances over her shoulder and color blooms brightly on her cheeks when her eyes land on Steve. 

Natasha points a finger at her chest and angles her head. “Spy.” She lifts a hand in an absent wave and walks silently out of the room. 

"Hurricane, huh?" Steve asks, left eyebrow twitching up as he leans on the breakfast bar, digging into the carton of noodles again. Darcy makes a little squeaking sound and he’s a little surprised when her typical word vomit doesn’t follow.

“Truth?” she asks, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, jumping when thunder booms loudly outside the window, the flash of lightning quickly illuminating her face. 

He swallows the noodles and smirks at her. “Yeah, I generally prefer it.” 

“Captain, the only way I’d kick you out of bed would be to fuck you on the floor.”

Steve nods as a crooked grin sneaks across his face. "Weather forecast looks pretty awful, doesn’t it?” he asks conversationally. 

Darcy scowls at him, her face flushing several shades of red. “I guess it does,” she says coolly, turning her attention back to her game. 

“You should come over and ride it out with me."


	2. Key (Darcy/Steve, Bucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Key 'verse, in which Bucky is a well-meaning and lovable buttinsky, and Darcy suffers horrible embarrassment before landing a Captain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Sarah for a quick beta. ♥

“Hi ya, dollface,” Bucky drawls lazily and drops himself down on the edge of her desk. 

 

“Busy,” Darcy grumbles, fingers flying over the keyboard of her workstation.  “Shoo.”

 

He tugs her hair playfully and she bares her teeth.  “Brought you a present.” 

 

“Present?” she asks excitedly, eyes lighting up behind her glasses.  “Gimme!”  Bucky smirks and presses a small, hard object into the palm of her outstretched hand.  Her lips twist in disappointment at the shiny metal key.  “What the hell is this?”

 

“It’s a key,” he says slowly, enunciating each word.

 

“Shut it, asshole,” Darcy snaps.  “What’s it for?” 

 

The answering smirk on his face can only be described as lecherous.  It’s unsettling.  “Steve’s place.”

 

"Why do I need a key to Steve's place?  I see you guys all the time," Darcy frowns.  She slaps the key on the desk and pushes it towards Bucky.

  
"You two need to fuck already.  I'm sick of the tension."  


"I don't know what you are talking about," Darcy says dismissively.  She focuses on her monitor and wills away the color rising on her cheeks.  Bucky rolls his eyes, fingers tapping on the desktop.  "Steve and I, we're just—"  


"Finish that sentence and I'll tell Stark it was you that hacked into his system and made JARVIS speak with a cockney accent."  


 

"You have no proof of that," Darcy huffs, crossing her arms under her breasts.  Bucky's eyes dart down to her cleavage and back up again, a self-satisfied smirk on his stupidly gorgeous face.  "Dick."

 

Bucky shrugs carelessly.  "And I’ll tell Barton you were the one that stole that case of purple beer out of the communal kitchen."  


 

"Dude, it was Lavender Beer and you stole it," Darcy corrects, and Bucky narrows his eyes.  "Fine.  We have a mutual attraction," Darcy admits, fingers dancing across the keys.  “Is that what you want to hear?”  


 

"Three days ago you an' Steve were arguin' over a damn movie.  Pretty sure if the assemble hadn't been called he was thirty seconds from tossing you on the table and fuckin' you ‘til you screamed," Bucky smirks.  


 

"What," Darcy splutters. "It was dinner."  


 

“And?"  


 

"With the whole team there," Darcy flails her arms out.  Her cheeks are flushed pink with embarrassment and arousal at the thought of Steve throwing her on the table and—that is enough of that line of thinking she scolds herself, pressing her thighs together to relieve some of the ache.

 

“Doesn’t matter.  I’m tellin’ ya, kitten, the cloud of tension surrounding the two’a you is so thick that you’re sexually frustratin’ the rest of us poor bastards you guys call friends.  Use the key.  He’ll be home at nine tonight.”

 

“Tonight?” she repeats, dazed.  Bucky winks and pats her on top of the head.  “Fuck you,” she hisses, batting his hand away. 

 

Bucky sighs and gives her the slow once-over.  “Tempting offer, sweetheart, but Red’d kill me.  And you.”

 

“Ugh,” Darcy scoffs.  “You’re a pig, Bucky Barnes.”

 

“Oink, oink!” he says, grinning brightly.

 

Darcy rolls her eyes and slugs him in the chest.  She patently ignores his mocking laughter.  “What the hell am I supposed to do?  Lounge on his bed in patriotic lingerie and wait?” 

 

Bucky shrugs.  “Naked is better.”  He picks up the key and places it in her hand again.  It feels like a lead weight in her palm and she can’t believe she’s even considering this asinine plan.  “Whatta ya say, Darce?”

 

“Oh, there are about a million things I wanna say to you and none of them are complimentary.”  She swallows the lump in her throat and gives him a long, guarded look while she mulls things over in her mind.  “What if he turns me down?” she asks quietly.  Bucky doubles over laughing, clutching his stomach.  She’s had enough.  “Get the hell off my desk!”    

 

* * *

 

 

Her hands are shaking so much it takes three tries before Darcy finally gets the key in the lock and lets herself into Steve’s apartment.   The door closes behind her and she immediately considers turning right back around and leaving, almost unable to believe she’s gone along this far with Bucky’s asinine plan.  Instead she looks around, notices the apartment is neat and orderly, much like the other times she’s been here.  Nothing much has changed—a few more books on the bookshelf and a bowl of apples on the coffee table next to his sketch pad.

 

She has nearly two hours before Steve is supposed to get home—plenty of time to bail out if her nerves get the better of her. 

 

The thing is…Bucky isn’t wrong.  The tension between her and Steve shifted a few weeks ago, and what had been friendly, vague flirting before has an edge now.  It’s thrilling and terrifying.  They end up arguing over everything and nothing, and it’s beginning to affect Darcy’s work.  Not that being Coulson’s minion has all that much to do.  She isn’t a field agent, and that’s fine and dandy with her.  Let the superheroes and level-sevens crack heads while she sips iced mochas in the air conditioned comfort over her tiny office filing reports and occasionally putting her hacking skills to work.

 

Locking herself in Steve’s bathroom, she strips out of her clothes and opens up the little bag from the boutique Natasha took her to on her lunch break.  “James is buying,” Natasha had told her with a lethal smile.  “It’s the least he can do.”  Swallowing hard, Darcy unloops the ribbon tags from the red and black dotted lingerie set.  She slips the garter belt on and then the panties, running her hands over the ruffles covering them.  It takes a few tries before she gets the right garter clipped to the silk stocking.  Darcy fusses with the bra, adjusting her boobs until they are just right, looking herself over critically.  Satisfied, she digs out her lipstick,  _Bleeding Liberty_ , and slicks it over her lips, making ridiculous kissy faces at her reflection.

 

She walks into the bedroom and looks for a docking station for her iPod to no avail.  “Dammit, Rogers,” Darcy frowns, and digs her iPod out anyway, popping her ear buds in and shoving the player into her bra.  She lights rose and geranium scented candles and dots them about the bedroom and living room, diming the lights as she goes.

 

Darcy practices posing seductively around his apartment—in the doorway, on the sofa in the living room, on the coffee table next to the bowl of apples, and she tries the plush rug in front of the fireplace, but she can’t figure out how to actually get the fire lit and it’s too damn cold on the floor in her lingerie.

 

Forty-five minutes to go. 

 

“Good evening, Captain.  I’m here to rock your socks off,” Darcy purrs to herself, cringing at how awful that sounds.  “Why, hello there, Steven.  Are you ready for a night of debauchery?  Ugh, worse!  Okay, okay.  Steve, I’m your present, unwrap me?” Darcy says.  She can’t even manage to believe herself, so how is he supposed to?  “Fuck me, Captain,” she demands as she perches on the arm of Steve’s favorite chair.  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”  Darcy throws her arms up in frustration and falls off the chair, landing on her ass in a heap.  “Goddammit!”

 

Muttering to herself, Darcy clambers to her feet, rubs her ass, and pads back into the bedroom, dropping down on the navy bedspread.  Pulling her iPod out of her bra, she checks the time.

 

Forty minutes.

 

It feels like a freaking lifetime.  To push down the panic, Darcy searches through her music and pulls up her ‘cheeseball’ playlist.  It’s filled with ridiculous eighties ballads that never fail to make her smile and get her toes tapping.  She mouths along to the words, pushing to her feet and turning up the volume just a little bit more when her one of her favorite songs comes on.

 

“Every now and then I fall apart.  And I need you now tonight.  And I need you more than ever,” Darcy sings, holding her iPod like a microphone as the song builds.  Spinning around, she drops to her knees, eyes closed, arms raised as she belts out more of the lyrics.   

 

“I don’t know what to do and I’m always in the dark.  We’re living in a powder keg and giving off sparks.  I really need you tonight.”  Darcy opens her eyes and sees Steve standing there, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, a big fat smirk on his too perfect face.  “Oh my god,” she wails, covering her burning face with her hands.  “Fuck, you're early.  You weren't supposed to be here for…” she starts, peeking down at the clock on her iPod, “…thirty-two minutes."  She pulls the ear buds out but keeps her eyes tightly shut, one hand still hiding her face.

 

"I can go and come back again, though this is my apartment and my bed," Steve says voice trailing off.  He sounds far too amused for his own good right now, but his eyes are dark and interested and pretty well fixed on her tits.  “Not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing here?”       
  
"I'm seducing you," Darcy supplies, untangling her fingers from the cord of her iPod and dropping it on the bedspread.  
  
"With...singing?" Steve asks, and Darcy peeps between her fingers at him.  He’s closer now, standing at the foot of the bed.  Jesus.  
  
"Oh, god no,” she scoffs.  “That’d never work.  With this," Darcy says, arching her back a little and gesturing towards her lingerie.  Steve's eyes comb over her slowly and she’s never felt sexier than she does in that moment with his eyes on her.  He reaches out and fingers the strap of her bra, his knuckles barely grazing against her skin.  Darcy shivers.   
  
"Pretty," he murmurs, lifting his eyes to meet hers.  
  
"Thanks,” she manages weakly.  “I got them today."  
  
"Wasn't talkin' about the underwear," Steve says, tugging the strap down over her shoulder.

 

“Oh,” Darcy whispers as Steve’s fingers trail up her neck to cradle her jaw.  His thumb rubs over her bottom lip, smearing her lipstick, and for a moment she thinks about telling him the color, telling him she’s sorry for barging in and being so awkward, and then every single though is obliterated as his mouth covers hers and he steals the breath from her lungs.

 

"So goddamn beautiful," Steve breathes against her mouth when they break apart.

 

“Hey, I’m the one supposed to be seducing you,” Darcy says and teases her fingers over his collar.

 

“It worked,” Steve mutters darkly, sliding his hands down to cup her ass and press his hips into hers.  She can feel the hard length of him pressed against her belly through his jeans and whimpers, dragging her fingers through his short hair.    

 

Darcy grins and kisses a line up his throat.  Having Steve pressed against her like he is has given her confidence a boost and wiped out any shred of awkwardness she felt earlier.  “I have plans for you, Captain,” she purrs, nipping at his earlobe. 

 

“Fuck,” he swears sharply, hands flexing against her ass.  She leans back and watches with interest the muscles in his neck when he swallows.  His hands glide up her back and flick open the clasp of her bra.  “Show me later.”  He pulls her bra off and groans appreciatively.    

 

Her lips curl into kittenish smile.  “You got it, Steve.”  


	3. Truth (Darcy & Steve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is suffering the side effects after Loki puts a spell on him. He spills a lot of truth tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know anymore, you guys. Enjoy?

It’s been a day from hell; or at the very least purgatory. So when break time _finally_ hits, Darcy hastily makes her way out of the labs leaving Jane to argue with Stark over his fondling of her machines. Whatever. There is a box of Thin Mints with her name on it hidden away inside a box of Shredded Wheat in the kitchen and she’s going to spend every second of her break enjoying the hell out of those.

 

Steve and Bucky are standing around the large island when she walks in, talking quietly. "Afternoon, gentlemen,” Darcy greets. “Well, gentle _man_ and Bucky. What are you two yentas whispering about?"

 

"Go ahead and tell her, punk," Bucky grins, swiping one of the sandwiches off Steve’s plate.

 

“Tell me what?” Darcy asks cautiously, looking between the shit-eating grin on Bucky’s face and the scowl on Steve’s.  Steve shakes his head vehemently and grips the edge of the counter, mouthing something that she can’t make out.

 

Bucky snorts and claps Steve on the back with his synthetic hand. “Good luck, Cap. You’ll need it.”

 

“Fuck you,” Steve spits out, shooting Bucky a look so black it nearly makes Darcy wince.  Bucky just sneers and saunters out of the room eating his sandwich.

 

“Okaaay,” Darcy draws out. “Part of me is intrigued, but if it gave you scary face and made Bucky look like the cat that swallowed the cream-covered canary, I probably don’t want to know.” She busies herself putting the kettle on for tea and spares him a quick glance over her shoulder. “Anyways, I’m making tea and have a box of Thin Mints. If you’re nice to me, Rogers, I’ll share.”  Darcy presses up on her toes, reaching into one of the cupboards for tea and the decoy box of Shredded Wheat hidden behind a row of obnoxiously colorful kids’ cereal boxes.

 

“Let me help you with that,” Steve says. Ever the hero, she muses, even in matters of reaching things off the high shelves and presumably rescuing kittens from trees, though she hadn’t personally witnessed that one.

 

“So,” Darcy starts, grabbing the box of tea from a lower shelf. But whatever words were on her tongue fizzle out as she drops down to her feet, falling back against Steve, who, _hello,_ is extra happy today, if the press she feels on the small of her back is any indication. “Oh.” Her cheeks flush warmly and she stares, blinking dumbly at the open cabinet.

 

“Shit,” Steve mutters lowly, dropping the box of cereal on the counter and stepping away. 

 

“Are you that happy about a box of Girl Scout cookies?”

 

“I can’t help it if I get a hard-on every time I see you. I can only apologize and hope you touch it. Fuck!”

 

"You what?" Darcy squeaks, dropping the box of tea in her hands and whirling around. The box tumbles off the counter and lands on the floor between them.

 

"I fantasize about it," Steve says quietly. His eyes are wide and there is a scary clench in his jaw that she has only seen when he’s been really angry with Stark or S.H.I.E.L.D.

 

Hold the fucking phone. "You fantasize about me,” she says evenly. “Touching your dick?"

 

"Touching it, licking it, sucking it.  Riding it.  Yeah," Steve says, the deep timbre of his voice not matching with the alarming shade of red his face is currently turning.  His hands clench and unclench rhythmically at his sides and he averts his eyes away from her.

 

"Oh, my fucking God!" Darcy wails, covering her face with her hands. She’s not going to stand there and pretend she hasn’t imagined him having these kinds of thoughts about her, but this is _Steve_ , and something’s very fishy about all this. "What the hell's gotten into you, Steve?"

 

"The last mission...there were complications...side effects. You want some coffee? I think I want some coffee," Steve says, face red as he fiddles with the fancy espresso machine. “I really want some coffee.”

 

"No, I don't want any damn coffee and I really don’t think you should have any either.  I want to know why we are talking about your trouser snake," Darcy says, slapping Steve's hand away from the coffee machine before he breaks it. “I’ll make some tea, and you can tell me more about these side effects, okay?”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Steve says, running his hands through his hair. It’s ready for another cut, she thinks idly while she makes tea, and avoids watching him stalk back and forth across the kitchen. “It’s a spell. Loki did something, I can’t shut up. Can’t still my tongue. Keep my thoughts in my head. I’m sorry.”

 

Oh. Well, that really sucks. “Sucks to be you.” Steve’s eyes flick down to her mouth and back again. “Do you think about me a lot?” Darcy asks when she sets two mugs down on the kitchen table.

 

Steve twitches, carefully sitting down at the table and picking up his mug of tea. “More than I should. I’m so sorry, Darcy, I wouldn’t speak to you like this. I’m sorry,” he blurts out, eyes cast on expanse of table between them.

 

"Are you really sorry or do you just want to fuck me on the dinner table?" Darcy asks, turning her cup in a slow circle. Steve chokes and turns a mottled shade of red. "Hmm, Steve?" she says, leaning forward.

 

Steve's eyes flick from her mouth to her breasts and he swallows hard. "Absolutely. But not the first time I fuck you. I want you spread out on my bed, nails clawing the sheets to ribbons while I eat you out. Want your legs wrapped around me as I bury myself in the heat of your pussy. I want my name on your lips till you can't scream anymore," Steve says. His cheeks are flushed, eyes wild, and she’s pretty sure she just heard the cup in his hands crack under the stress of his grip. “Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, embarrassed.

 

Well, now they both have a problem, because while he may not be able to stop saying what’s on his mind, those images are now ingrained in hers. “Jesus fuck, Steve. Why didn’t you ever, you know, ask me out or something?”

 

“Wasn’t ready,” he mutters, rubbing his hands over his face.

 

“And if this spell didn’t happen? Would you have said anything to me?”

 

“Yes...I...I had a plan,” Steve grits out and takes a gulp of tea that must burn all the way down his throat.

 

“A plan to what?” she wonders.

 

“Seduce you. Goddamn it, your lips are so fuckin’ amazing, Darcy.” Steve growls out, slamming the cup down and leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, white-knuckled fists resting on the edge of the table.  “I think about you on your knees, wrapping that perfect mouth around my cock and— _fuck_. I’m sorry,” he repeats, horrified at his behavior.

 

Darcy presses her thighs together beneath the table and smiles down into her tea. “You said that already. It’s not your fault, Steve. Pretty flattering, actually.”

 

Steve hides his face in his hands again. “You should go before I embarrass myself further and you never want to speak to me again.”

 

Part of her wants to pump the well for more information. As it stands, she’s going to have to use the remainder of her break to rid herself of the ache between her legs. But taking advantage of the situation seems mean. Besides, she _likes_ Steve and the butterflies in her stomach are pleased as punch over all this. “Oh, I doubt that could happen, but okay,” Darcy says finally, scooting her chair back and getting to her feet. “I need to go take care of something before I get back to work anyway.” She walks around the table and kisses his cheek. “For what it’s worth, I think about you, too,” she whispers into his ear.

 

Steve groans and presses his lips tightly together, clamping a hand over his mouth, appearing to do everything in his power not to speak again and say inappropriate things.  Darcy grins and heads for the door.  “Come find me after this spell has worn off. I wanna hear more about this plan to seduce me, Rogers.”    


	4. French Fry (Darcy/Steve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Would you like fries with that?

It's not that she  _hates_  the team meals, but they’re not lining up to join the ranks of her favorite things anytime soon. Jane, Bruce and Tony are, as usual, busy getting their science orgy on during dinner while Spy One and Spy Two are doing that weird silent communication thing that she has been told repeatedly isn't eye-fucking, but it damn well looks like it all the same. Which leaves Darcy sitting at the end of the table across from Steve like always and failing to keep him from stealing fries off her plate. She smacks his hand, but he just grins and takes a couple more fries anyway.       
  
"Y’know what, Captain? If you want to eat something of mine, how about my pussy instead of all my goddamn fries?" Darcy hisses before her brain can catch up to her traitorous tongue.   
  
Oh, fuck.  
  
"Can't I do both?" Steve asks lowly, eyes raking over her as he smirks and pops another ketchup-covered fry into his mouth.   
  
Eyes wide and cheeks burning, Darcy sips her large chocolate shake while she tries to find two thoughts to rub together. Steve leans forward to rest his elbows on the table and gives her a downright  _filthy_ smile. Yeah, that smile has a major effect on her panties, but she’s willing to play along in whatever game this is. "Depends on how good you are," she says around the straw in her mouth, cocking a brow up in challenge.   
  
Steve's eyes dart around the room but no one is paying any attention to them, too busily engrossed in themselves to notice anything else. "You wanna go now and find out?" he asks, tilting his head towards the open doorway.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Darcy draws out sarcastically and rolls her eyes at him.  “Har dee har, Rogers. I’m not falling for your trolling like some gullible baby agent.” 

 

 He chuckles and smiles again, and damn it all it’s a great smile. “M’serious,” he says. Steve rubs his fingers clean on a paper napkin and gets to his feet. “Let’s go.”   
  
"Here?" Darcy squeaks in shock. Steve shrugs, and her eyes drop from his face to the wide expanse of his shoulders in the dark blue Henley he’s wearing, picturing them pushing her legs apart while that blond head of his is buried between her thighs. He slips away from the table, pulling his phone from his pocket and disappearing further down the hall in the mansion.

 

No way in hell  _that_  just happened.   
  
Frowning down at the table, Darcy draws a star in the condensation of her milkshake glass while she tries to process. Is this some elaborate joke? If it is, she’s ending their friendship immediately. She flicks her eyes down the table at the rest of the team to see if maybe they’re all in on this scheme. But everyone is just as engaged in their own conversations as they were a few minutes ago and no one seems to have noticed that Steve left.

 

And okay. So maybe she and Steve enjoy flirting with each other, but it’s always been harmless and neither of them has ever acted on it. Maybe this is Steve teasing her and waiting to see how far he can push her before she backs down. Well fuck that. He should damn well know by now she doesn’t shy away from a challenge. She is going to call out Captain America, because there is no way Steve would go through with doing…that. Would he?  
  
Decision made, she slips quietly out of the dining room and walks down the hall. She passes five closed doors before one opens and Steve pulls her quickly inside, closing the door gently behind them. She gets a glimpse of a small study through the lone illuminated desk lamp. Dark-paneled wood, bookcases filled with red covered books, wingback chairs, and plush carpet beneath her boots.    
  
Darcy leans back against the door, tosses Steve a sassy smile. “Is this where your plan ends, Rogers? Bet you thought this little joke of yours would fluster me and leave me pouting into my milkshake.” There are more words forming on the tip of her tongue, but they die out when Steve’s eyes flash hotly and the muscles in his jaw twitch.

 

“Dammit, Darcy,” he says gruffly. “It’s not a joke.” He crowds her against the door and presses his mouth fully to hers, slipping his hands into her hair. Electricity zips up her spine and she tastes a hint of salt on his lips. Darcy’s hands slide up his chest, fingers curling into the soft fabric. Broad hands skim down her back and Steve rucks her skirt up as his tongue curls sure against hers. She's dizzy from his kiss, brain foggy, body buzzing when he pulls back. “I want you,” he murmurs against her mouth, palms skating higher up her thighs beneath her skirt.

 

Her heart stutters in her chest and every nerve ending in her body sparks with want and anticipation.  “Steve,” she says thickly, nodding her head in a daze. His lips twitch into a nearly imperceptible smile before licking at the seam of her lips and kissing her stupid again.

 

They’re both gasping for breath when he pulls back this time. “I want to taste you. Make you scream.” Darcy shivers and watches as Steve sinks to his knees before her and hikes the skirt up to her waist, ghosting calloused fingertips along the edge of her panties. His eyes are fixed on hers, hands gliding over her skin and making heat pool between her legs. “Say the word and I’ll stop.”

 

“I don’t want you to stop.”

 

The sound he makes is damn close to growling and her head falls back with a thud against the door when he nudges her thighs apart and licks the damp spot on her panties.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Holy shit, Steve,” she gasps, dropping the hand she had covering her mouth limply to her side. Her legs are shaking and if it weren’t for the door holding her up, Darcy’s pretty sure she’d be in a post-orgasmic heap on the floor. Darcy rakes her other hand through his hair, and Steve presses a gentle kiss to her inner thigh. He gives her a smug grin (which he damn well earned the right to) and pulls up her panties and smoothes her skirt down before getting to his feet. His arms cage her in the doorway and gives her another dirty grin, lips shiny with the taste of her on them. Captain Rogers, ladies and gentlemen? Has a fucking outstanding mouth.

 

Steve leans in to kiss her, long and deep and messy, the heady taste of her sex on his lips and tongue. Groaning, she slips a hand between them and reaches for his belt. He lays his hand over hers and gently draws it away before breaking the kiss. “Later,” he mutters.

 

“Mmm,” Darcy hums and nips at his jaw. “Now. Let me. I wanna return the favor.”

 

His eyes snap shut and he drops his forehead to hers. “Not here, Darce. My place. Later.”

 

His plan wasn’t without merit. Then she could see how loud he was when he lost control. “Okay,” she agrees, lightly scraping her nails on the back of his neck, smirking when he shudders beneath her touch and presses his hips forward. He’s hard against her belly and she can’t wait to find out more about that.

 

“We should get back,” he says reluctantly, giving her a chaste kiss on the lips. “You go first. M’gonna need a minute here.”

 

Darcy’s lips curve into a kittenish smile and she leans forward to whisper in his ear, “I can’t wait to get my hands and mouth on you.” Steve lets out a deep, rumbling groan and she chuckles softly before pressing a kiss to his cheek.  His arms drop from the door and he steps back. She pushes up on her toes and gives him another peck on the lips before turning to leave.  Her hand pauses on the knob and she looks back over her shoulder.  “Hey, Steve?”

 

“Yes, Darcy?”

 

“You can eat my fries anytime you want.”

 

Steve snorts out a laugh and smirks at her.  “Is that code?”

 

She just shrugs and blows him a kiss on her way out the door.     


End file.
